Quinn, FTW!
by kabensi
Summary: Rachel appoints herself manager of Quinn's campaign to be Homecoming Queen. Obviously, with this being Rachel, the campaign is run with military precision and failure is not an option. But Quinn's not that bothered about winning, she's just trying to work up the courage to ask Rachel to be her date. - This is actually an old fic I'm reposting from my LJ.


"You're sure you want to do this?"

"Yes."

"Because, there's no taking it back once it's out there."

"I know."

"And-"

"Kurt, just put the paper in the damn box."

Kurt folded the slip and dropped it into the ballot box. "Consider yourself nominated."

"Thank you."

Quinn slipped her arm through Kurt's and exited the cafeteria. A year ago, this would not have happened. A year ago, Quinn Fabray wore red and black and white and reigned supreme from her position atop the high school hierarchy. A year ago, Kurt Hummel might have scratched Quinn's eyes out, given the opportunity.

But this was a new year. Junior Year. A fresh start. Quinn was content to start this year off as a regular student. No Cheerios, no desire to reign supreme.

Until Kurt brought it up.

Homecoming.

At first, she thought it was a ridiculous idea. She really couldn't care less about being Homecoming Queen, especially with all the work that went into campaigning for the position. And, then, somehow, Rachel got wind of the idea and became very, very excited about it.

"Quinn. This is perfect. You need to regain visibility. And not just for yourself, but for glee club. If you're the Homecoming Queen _and_ you're in New Directions, you're an unstoppable force."

"Been there, Berry."

"Think about it. Quinn Fabray, homecoming queen. All the ceremony and you reigning over the dance. You're a shoo in, and people will be fighting over who gets to be your date."

"I do like it when they fight over me."

"That's the spirit! Now... you're going to need posters, a dedicated Twitter account, we should definitely make a You Tube ad..." Rachel was frantically jotting things down in her notebook.

"Rachel."

"Yeah?"

"I'd probably need to get nominated, first."

So, Kurt was commissioned to drop the official nomination ballot, and Quinn was on her way to back to the top, whether she liked it or not.

Honestly, Quinn wasn't concerned about winning. It was the dance that got her attention.

Her friendship with Kurt wasn't the only thing that had changed since this time last year. There was no quarterback boyfriend, no soon to be discovered pregnancy, no crazy wives of teachers trying to strike a deal to secure her unborn child.

The baby, Madison, was currently with a lovely lesbian couple in upstate New York. Rachel's dads helped Quinn make the connection and she'd arranged an open adoption. They were a lovely family looking for a second child and entirely willing to allow Quinn any visitation she might want in the future. The situation about as perfect as it could be, although, Rachel did joke that it was borderline cruelty for any kid to have Warner-Polniaczek as a last name.

And Rachel. Rachel Berry was the biggest change since last year. Not that Rachel, herself, had changed all that much. She was still obsessive and relatively obnoxious, though she had grown and developed better social skills. But it wasn't even about the differences in Rachel, it was the difference in how Quinn thought about her. Somehow, they'd become friends, through glee and all the baby business.

Over the summer, when Quinn actually had time to relax and reflect on the past year, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to be more than friends with Rachel. She just didn't know if it was an invitation to an unrequited mess.

So, when the subject of the Homecoming dance arose, with Rachel talking about increased visibility leading to more desirability, Quinn saw her opportunity come into focus.

-

By the end of the week, there were posters and banners all over the school with phrases like "Quinn, for the win!" and "Fabray, all the way!" The latter seemed ironic and possibly a little lacking in taste, but Rachel insisted that the human brain retains rhymes some percentage better than non-rhymes.

That afternoon, at the Friday pep rally, the candidates were expected to each give a speech to the student body. At lunch, Rachel insisted that Quinn meet her in the choir room for a dry run and to see if any changes needed to be made before "taking it public."

Quinn stood in the center of the room, with Rachel across from her, seated in one of the chairs. Her hands were folded her in lap and her legs tucked under the seat. She looked calm and attentive.

The blonde looked at the index cards in front of her and cleared her throat. "My fellow students..."

"Stand up straight, you're slouching."

"I am not."

"You are, and you need to open yourself up more."

"How?"

"Look more at me and less at the cards."

"But I have to read them."

"You're a fast reader, I know that much, so glance at it and look up. Try again."

"My fellow students. I thank you all for coming here today- Why am I thanking them? It's an assembly, it's required."

"It's just formality. Keep going."

"I stand here today humbled by the nomination I have received, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our alumni... Rachel this sounds an awful lot like Barack Obama's inaguration speech."

"I know. I adapted it."

"I'm not changing the world. I'm running for homecoming queen."

"It's an elected position and you need to appeal to the people. Start over."

"From the beginning?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Quinn brushed her hair out of her face and began, again. "My fellow stu-"

"What are you wearing?"

"Uh, what I have on."

"No, I mean for the speech."

"Again, what I have on."

"You need something... else..."

"What's wrong with this?" Her hands ran over the front of her dress.

Rachel was already up and moving toward the piano. There was a garment bag draped over the piano bench. "Nothing's wrong with it, but it would be much more effective if you wore this." She unzipped the bag to reveal a red pantsuit.

Quinn couldn't catch the laugh that escaped her lips. "I am _not_ wearing that."

"Look, the color suggests you have school spirit and the cut suggests you're a woman but not a lust object." Rachel pulled the blazer free from the hanger and draped it over Quinn's shoulders. "Red really is a great color on you. One of my greater disappointments when you left the Cheerios was that you stopped wearing the uniform."

"You had a thing for my uniform?"

"An appreciation, yes." She stepped back and crossed her arms. "Okay, start again."

"Can't I just get up there are read this? I trust you that it's well written."

"But I need to make sure the jokes don't fall flat. I'm sure your delivery is very different than mine."

"Jokes?"

"To lighten the mood."

"You want me to do stand up?"

"Of course not. Stand up comedy is a very difficult art to master and I seriously doubt you have the natural talent to hold an audience your first time out."

"Thanks a lot, Berry. I can't dress myself and I'm not funny."

"I'm just applying my knowledge of competition to help you win."

"And I don't know about competition?" Quinn knew Rachel was just helping, but it had been like this all week. She was tired and just wanted the whole thing to be over with. The dance was tomorrow night and she still hadn't worked up the courage to ask Rachel. She did know that Rachel hadn't accepted any other offers because she claimed to need all her energy focused on the campaign. "That uniform you're so fond of, was the one I wore to_multiple_ competitions as part of an award winning team."

"Athletic performances are different than soliciting for publicly elected positions."

"Okay, I really just want to go have lunch, now." She shrugged the jacket off and handed it back to Rachel.

"What about the speech?"

Even with her growing attraction for the brunette, sometimes Rachel still got under her skin, in the negative way. "I'll wing it. I'll see you at the rally."

-

The gymnasium buzzed with the sound of students shushing each other which only generated more noise as they made shushing sounds to shush the other shushing sounds.

Principal Figgins stepped up to the microphone. "Simmer down! Everyone, please remember that the parking lot is not a bedroom and any students caught engaged in indecent activities on school grounds will face the consequences. And not just the ones nature bestows on you. Now, your fellow students would like to address you about the upcoming homecoming election."

Quinn was fourth, and last, in line to give her speech, so she reviewed the index cards, then scanned the audience for Rachel's face. Even though she'd walked out on her, earlier, Quinn knew she needed the moral support Rachel provided, just by being there. She finally spotted her in the first row, between Kurt and Brittany. They made eye contact and Quinn noticed that look, the commanding glaze that had been over her eyes for the past week, wasn't there. Rachel gave her a small wave and mouthed "Good luck."

The first speaker was still working on her speech. So far, it was boring and monotone, and the student body looked relatively bored. Someone screamed out, "Take off your top." A wave of giggles moved across the audience and the speaker droned on.

She looked back up at Rachel, who was now actually focused on competition, probably evaluating her speech for a full critique. Suddenly, she knew what she needed to do. And she had about fifteen minutes to do it.

By the time she made it back to the gym, there was no time to spare. It had taken a little longer than she thought to put her hair up, since she'd been wearing it down most of the time, anymore. The third speaker was just about to finish and seemed to have a much better response that the first girl. When Quinn stepped out on the stage, there was a murmur through the crowd. She knew the sight of her wearing _that_ outfit was not what anyone expected, not even Rachel.

She adjusted the microphone and began to speak. "My fellow students," her eyes sought out Rachel, who watched intently. "Some of you may remember me as Quinn Fabray, former captain of the Cheerios, or president of the Celibacy Club. Some of you may remember me as that pregnant girl in the glee club. Some of you may be new and have no idea what the hell I'm talking about." Quinn reached up to pull the rubber band out of her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders. "Whatever the case, it doesn't matter. That girl, _that_ Quinn Fabray, isn't the one standing here right now."

Someone shouted out, "She's a robot!" Someone else shushed the shouter.

"I am not this uniform." She tugged at the front of the cheerleading outfit. "Or the baby I carried around campus last year. I'm not Top Dog or Head Bitch in Charge." One last time, she settled her eyes on Rachel. "I'm just a girl, who wants to go to a dance." She grinned at the girl across the gymnasium. "Rachel Berry, will you be my date to the homecoming dance?"

"Lesbians!" Someone else gave a catcall and a whistle. More shushing.

"Yes." Rachel was already on her feet. "I was beginning to think you'd never ask." It was hard to hear her over all the din, but Quinn was looking right at her and knew exactly what she'd said. Then Rachel added, "Vote for Quinn!" and the audience exploded in appalause.

With the speech over, Quinn abandoned the microphone and rushed to the center of the hardwood floor where Rachel now stood. It didn't matter that everyone was watching or that they hadn't even gone on their first date, Quinn took Rachel's face into her hands and kissed her, right there on top of the William McKinley High School mascot emblazoned across the floorboards.

Rachel looked up at her. "That wasn't the speech I gave you."

"I told you I'd wing it." She smoothed her hands over the cheerleading skirt. "I did take your advice about the outfit, though."

"Much appreciated." Rachel kissed her again, then a familiar look settled over her eyes. "Now, we have less than twenty four hours to coordinate our outfits..."


End file.
